


fic: Teacher

by snarkyscorp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, F/M, Humiliation, Infidelity, Watersports, informal D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2010-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkyscorp/pseuds/snarkyscorp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Please, Mrs. Potter," he is saying again, but he is watching now, too, and Ginny knows his pupils are blown wide with wonder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fic: Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift fic for [](http://nextgendarkfest.livejournal.com/profile)[**nextgendarkfest**](http://nextgendarkfest.livejournal.com/).

Her first mistake is inviting him in. He stands there like a limp thing, all undone with flashing eyes and sharp angles and greedy lips. She would like to touch him; that is her second mistake. She _does_ touch him: that is her undoing.

He stands at the toilet when she slides up behind him. The spray of his urine splatters on the hard stone floors as he jerks from his concentration and gasps at the feel of her hand, firm at his waist and holding. His piss splutters to an untimely stop; she can feel the way he stiffens in her caging embrace, can feel how he clenches up tight to still the spray, can feel his embarrassment radiating off him in waves of humiliated anger that she has caught him with his trousers down. He might have come for sex, but that is different; he is too young to understand what a woman like her wants. _Really_ wants.

They hold like that for some time, he in a desperate clench to keep from pissing and her to try and goad him to complete it. She wants to feel him, to smell him, everywhere, all at once and stifling. It has been years since she has felt stifled like that, years since the scent of her husband pushed her over the edge and drew wet come down over the folds of her cunt, spilling out into her knickers like the first time all over again.

"Please," he whispers. "Can't hold it…"

He is embarrassed. The whine of his voice pleases her. He is only fifteen; his voice still cracks at times. Once, during Defense Against the Dark Arts, it cracked like it cracks now, and Ginny’s knickers were soiled by the time the class was through.

She presses her face between his shoulder blades, too short to be standing behind him like this; she has to crane her head to look, to watch her pale fingers creep over the waist of his boyish briefs and over the tremble of his knuckles to grip what she wants, what she desires most of all. He sputters anxiously, little nothing words of _please, please, Professor Potter, please, not like this_ into the dry air as he shakes. His tremble overwhelms her; she presses her breasts to him to get a better look and to undo him.

It takes but a minute. The press of her fingers, the supple swell of her breasts, her cooing voice saying _yes, yes, it’s okay, do it, come on, Malfoy, do it like a good little boy._ Scorpius lets loose an exquisite sob; his body slumps back against hers, and he releases.

Harry never lets her do this. Once, Ginny tried to sneak up behind him while he was pissing--only once, because sneaking up on a man who lives in constant fear of attack is impossible, even for his wife. She confessed that she wanted to watch. Harry’s eyes went so wide. He didn’t need to say anything; the answer was no.

Scorpius might have said no, might have said it over and over and over, like a litany in the cool air of her private quarters, but she does not give him the chance. Her grip is firm on his prick--a pretty length of seven inches, thin, pale--and he pisses. The stream of urine misses its mark, spluttering over her toilet, and Scorpius winces as Ginny giggles.

"What a dirty boy," she says. "What a dirty, filthy little boy, pissing on my toilet like some animal. Is that what you are, Malfoy? An animal?"

Scorpius tenses up, struggles. She has offended him. Her grip tightens around his prick and his piss leaks through in a cautious trickle.

"Come on, sweet thing," she coos against his ear. "Come on, come on, come on."

With a grunt, Scorpius continues. The stream is steady now, and Ginny controls it, controls _Scorpius_ with it. She twists her hand and the stream turns; she lifts his length and the stream dives; she pinches the base and the stream sputters. Scorpius sputters too.

"Please, Mrs. Potter," he is saying again, but he is watching now, too, and Ginny knows his pupils are blown wide with wonder.

"Finish up, my pretty little thing, and I’ll give you a reward."

Scorpius grunts again. Ginny is beginning to love the sound.

__________________

 

The first time can be excused, because Scorpius has always wanted Mrs. Potter, and if it takes a bit of pissing with her hand gripping his dick to get her to touch him, then Scorpius will do it and like it. The second, fifth, and tenth times, though, are inexcusable, sickening, disgusting, and when Scorpius begins to get aroused in the urinals next to Blane Willoughby just because he can smell the bloke’s piss as it hits the ceramic, he knows something is wrong. Scorpius begins to excuse himself in nearly every class, releasing himself and grunting low in the empty loos, watching the splash of his urine, the coil of it around the drain. Professor Longbottom pulled him aside a few days prior, asked if he needed to visit the infirmary, and now Scorpius is sure he is broken beyond any repair.

What girl will ever want a bloke who gets hard at the sight, sound, and smell of his own piss?

Then it gets worse. At first, Mrs. Potter just likes to watch, to grip his dick and control where he sends the stream. Then, she lines up ten butterbeers, tells Scorpius to drink them all in tandem and return only after he is _ready_. He needn’t ask _Ready for what?_ because he knows instinctively that she wants his cock full and so the next time and the next, he turns up fit to burst. Mrs. Potter laughs a bit when she touches his flaccid, naked length and all he can do is whimper and sob. It burns. He wants to come and buck and fuck her so, so hard, but all his body wants is to pee.

A week later, Mrs. Potter kneels beside him while he does it, fondles his balls and kisses the line of his groin. Scorpius splutters helplessly, pisses until his dick is aching, and then bucks with a hiss that whizzes through his teeth.

The day after that, Mrs. Potter licks his dick while he pisses. The next day, she mouths at him, laps a bit of his urine up and lets him aim the spray on her naked tits. It is the first time Scorpius has ever seen her breasts like that, completely exposed with the nipples hardened little nubs in her obvious arousal. Usually, she is fully clothed; this way, it’s so much better. Afterwards, she jerks Scorpius off and lets him come in her mouth instead of in the toilet. Even though she spits it out, Scorpius is in Heaven. He likes the sight of her mouth full of everything he has.

But then, things change. Scorpius shows up with fifteen butterbeers drank to fill his bladder and finds Mrs. Potter waiting, standing naked in her loo.

"Kneel," she says. It is always a demand, never a greeting. Nothing friendly, nothing romantic--more like business, sharp and defined, with boundaries and rules and things.

Scorpius kneels, watches Mrs. Potter’s slender frame as she sways over to him. She has wide hips, a flat, toned stomach, and small breasts that Scorpius knows he could fit into his mouth whole if she’d let him. He opens his mouth to ask, but before he can, Mrs. Potter has stopped in front of him and has the lips of her cunt spread so that Scorpius can see her red, swollen lips and her round little clit. His mouth begins to water, arousal overwhelming his need to piss. Mrs. Potter laughs at his slack-jawed, hazy-eyed expression.

"Come on, Malfoy," she whispers. "Lick me nice and slow, like a sweet little boy who knows his place."

He has no idea how to do it, has never done it before, but then he never pissed with someone else holding his prick before either, so he doesn’t complain. Scorpius leans in, gives Mrs. Potter an experimental lick and tastes her sticky sweetness. He does it again and again, very slow and deliberate, trying to understand where she likes it: against her clit, around the folds, or deep inside?

When he thrusts his tongue in for the first time, Mrs. Potter howls. "There," she tells him, gripping his head with both hands and smothering him. "There, there, there, yes, good boy, just like that, my sweet baby boy, make Mommy proud."

 _Mommy_. Scorpius baulks, raises his hands to press her away, but Mrs. Potter is stronger and forces him to the ground. It is easy from there to find Scorpius laying on his back with Mrs. Potter’s cunt rubbed into his panting, open mouth and her knees digging into his palms to keep his hands from pushing her away. She writhes, rubs, and Scorpius is half-smothered with her, feels her wet juices slick on his tongue, lips, teeth, chin, nose, and cheeks. She is everywhere, everything, and he is helpless.

"Stay, stay, stay," she demands. "Right there, right there, Malfoy, _stay_."

Then she’s coming, riding his tongue and mouth hard enough to break his nose when she crests. She cries out, rolls her clit over his lips, and he can do nothing but be used and let her have him.

Just when Scorpius thinks he can take no more, he feels a warmth trickle down past his lips, over his chin, down his throat. For a moment, he thinks he has felt her come slithering out all over his skin...and then he smells it.

Spluttering and writhing, he manages to knock Mrs. Potter off of him and gets on top of her as she finishes. Now her piss is everywhere and Scorpius is so, so furious, so angry, so mad he is shaking as he pins Mrs. Potter’s hands above her head and watches her eyes go wide and blank.

"Don’t," she says, stilling his resolve even in her submissive pose, as he is poised to shove his cock down her throat. "Don’t."

The hesitation burns. Scorpius waits, hopes he is not such a ponce that he will allow her to take advantage of him and not return any favours or ask any permissions. But then he remembers the first time he fingered her Harpies trading card as he masturbated in his dormatory, the first time he sat in her Defense class, the first time he saw her walk through the door, and the first time he fell in love at first sight.

Boneless, Scorpius slides off her, watches Mrs. Potter pull herself together.

"Stand up."

He does, like a willing little toy for Mrs. Potter’s amusement, and takes his place in his position over her toilet, feels her mouth slide over the head of his dick and skirt away along the underside. He lets himself go, feels his piss slither out, hears the splash of it in the water and knows without looking that he’s hit the mark. Mrs. Potter guides him to release all that he has and then tells him to sit still while she sucks him off.

"It is your reward," she says. "For being a good little boy for Mommy."

Scorpius cringes but says nothing. He tries not to return the next day but it is in vain. By the time he is sixteen, he can no longer remember a time that piss and humiliation didn’t turn him on. By the time he’s seventeen, he calls Mrs. Potter _Mommy_ while he pisses, without thinking of his own mother or what Mrs. Potter might be thinking as she slides a finger up his arse and hits a spot that makes him see stars.

He is a slave to her. Gone. A ghost except for their moments alone, hers completely.


End file.
